Unexpected
by amo.te
Summary: War is an awful thing, but it must be done to keep you safe.
1. Chapter 1

There's not very many Branson/Sybil fan-fic's at the moment, so I thought I've have a gander at one! Please reveiw whether it's good or Bad. This is set in around 1915 though the timing of the dialogue from the episode it is from may a different date just forget that, its 1915 heheheheh.

Happy Reading!

**I own nothing!**

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><p><em>Sit closer love: it was here I trow<em>  
><em>I made that vow,<em>

_Swore that two lives should be like one_  
><em>As long as the sea-gull loved the sea,<em>  
><em>As long as the sunflower sought the sun, -<em>  
><em>It shall be, I said, for eternity<em>  
><em>'Twixt you and me!<em>  
><em>Dear friend, those times are over and done;<em>  
><em>Love's web is spun.<em>

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><p>''Stop Badgering me!'' Exclaimed Sybil as she turned to leave the cluttered garage. Branson saw her jerk to leave and immediately placed a hand on her hip, blocking her exit and with that stared at the young women he most adored earnestly.<p>

''Sometimes sacrifices must be made for a future worth having.'' he glanced at Sybil with twinkling eyes. ''Thats all I'm going to say.'' He sighed removing his hand slowly. They both stood tasting eachothers presence, is this it? Branson thought. Could it be? He slowly moved towards her.

_No! What are you doing? This is so dangerous!_ Sybil's mind cried, he was leaning in. This was not the place nor the time. Quickly before she could notice his hurt which would brandish upon his face she turned away from him and briskly walked away from her dearest friend. Branson gave a heavy sigh of defeat at her departure. Oh how he wished his feeling would disappear. These long months of denial, how he wished he had never applied for such a job. Perhaps stayed in Ireland, met a nice girl, one of his rank and quality. He knew there was nothing to be done know the damage was there, he could no longer fight the intense feelings he held for the daughter on an Earl.

Branson solemly continued to read his paper, sitting back down onto the rough, cold steps. He opened his newspaper and read of of deaths of some infantry soliders whom had been killed in action on the front line in france. At this information the telegram reporting him to war burnt a hole in his pocket.

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><p>She was stupid.<p>

This whole situation was idiotic.

How can a Lady fall for a chauffeur, it was beyond belief. In novels, as Granny had explained weeks ago, becoming close to someone of a differernt rank or 'lower' class was magical, a wild wild adventure.

However in harsh reality it was painful and heart breaking. Sybil had pondered on her relationship with the family chauffeur for over a year. She knew they were friends of course, sharing similar interests and being able to talk openly with eachother was exhuberating. Only recently had she began to realise the intensity of their relationship. He had admitted to her on that fateful afternoon in York, that he loved her, wished to marry her. The thought stung tears into Sybil's eyes.

Alone in her room with the penetrating darkness masking her pain she allowed the tears to flow. Why did it have to be so dfficult?, love is love after all. Sybil jolted upright in her bed, staring out of her window into the crisp darkness which bewildered his cottage which lay in view. Just becasue society does not accept their love does not mean she should be scared to edure it, feel it. How selfish had she become. Only thinking of the social hierachy which blocked their path. Only believeing her family would banish her without a doubt if they found out how much she cared for their revolutionary chauffeur, and she cared for him a great deal. He knew they would face trouble, be declined in society, possibly from both sides. ''_Sacrifices must be made for a future worth having''._ How true he was, how blind was she. This was real, she loved him.

Without wasting a moment, Sybil swiftly left her plush bed and began to dress not caring what she drafted from the wardrobe. Her corset lay on the cabinet, _not tonight _she thought with a smile. With that Sybil Crawley left her bedroom brandishing a burning candle and slowly made her way down the stairs.

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><p>Branson lay on his springy bed reading from candle light. The days events had taken there toll and he was unable to even close his tiresome eyes without the burn of heartbreak and rejection twisting its way back into his mind.<p>

Maybe he'd got it all wrong. The caressing of his arms, the sweet talking and quick glances from the back seat. Evening squeezing his hand when he helped her out of the motorcar. Maybe it was all just a kind gesture. Even when they had held hands so innocently at the garden party. Oh how that seemed such a life away. Such happiness and prosperity. Until his Lordship had announced the dreaded war. How prospect had turned into pesimism. Tom's mind had gone astray and the book he held no longer bore him any interest, it was a Marx, one Sybil had found for him from a shop in Ripon. He felt his hand grow hot almost as if burnt from holding her item so he quickly threw in adruptly onto the hard wood wood floor.

He lay down placing his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. A swift knock at the front door brought his sombre though's crashing back to earth.

He was reluctant to answer the visitor at first, afraid of whom it may be, about to blow out his burning candle the late night intruder spoke.

''Branson...Tom, please open the door'' Branson was both stunned and worried upon hearing the voice of Lady Sybil. He hadn't known she'd known his given name and her use of it made his heart stutter. He slowly arose from his bed and went to unlock the door.

''Lady Sybil I...'' His words were cut of by her quick embrace. Twisting her arms around his torso she buried her head into his chest.

''I'm so sorry!'' She spoke almost silently. Branson, shocked at her intimate approach grew rigid under her grasp, however after a few moments she felt him relax and his arms curling over her body drawing them closer. ''Whatever for?'' Branson replied into her hair, he had waited for his moment for so long.

Pulling away slightly Sybil glanced up into the eyes of her beholder and frowned, ''For denying my feelings towards you.'' He smiled at her comment and pulled them both inside the warmth of his cottage, she closed the door swiftly, allowing herself to fall again into their embrace. He kissed her raven hair and pressed their bodies closer, she could now feel his breathe on her neck. ''I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long. I had to make sure my caring for you was true, I did not want to hurt you.'' Branson had to laugh. ''I would of waited forever,'' He pulled away and took each of her hands in his. ''You know that.''

She could only muster a nod, she never wanted this moment to end. Still holding his hands Sybil leant in realised her indication and leant in also. The moment their lips made contact the world of class shattered into a million pieces. Tom moaned under his breathe as he finally tasted her sweet lips. His hands tangled into her thick hair deepening the kiss. He slowly traced his tongue over her plump and lucious lips causing her to moan in delight. They tasted the sweetness of eachothers mouths,curling their tongues simultaneously. She know tracing her tongue over his strong lips. Branson gasped at her touch, moving his hands to slowly trace the small of her back, she followed pursuit gripping his shirt in lust.

Never wanting the moment to end but knowing time was against them, Branson slowly broke away from the women he loved. Their heavy breath's radiated around the small cottage, both bareing grins of delight. Sybil took hold of Bransons hand and lead his toward the faded red setee which lay in the middle of the house styling patchwork cushions and a thick blanket draped over the back. The two sat down still grasping hands. For a moment they sat in comfortable silence.

''I love you'' Sybil admitted frankly, staring up into his swimming-blue eyes.

''and I love you ... very much.'' He replied, stroking her flushed cheek with the thumb of his free hand. ''I have for a long time now'' His hand traced the to-white skin just below her hair line caused by the accident on the fateful day in Ripon. She nestled her head into his rough, hard working hand. '' As have I.'' She announced and he had to smile. ''I'm glad.''

Sybil smiled sweetly to her love looking up and once again kissing his strong lips. She broke the kiss, covering the proximity between them by wrapping her arms around his torso once again, resting her head upon his masculine shoulder.

''I had a telegram not so long ago, bareing news that George Jefferson had been killed in action. He was a nice man, I danced with him at my ball.'' Tom whinced at the thought of her arms around another man, his around her. ''I don't know why I am telling you this, I suppose I feel war is so unecessary, innocent men don't deserve to die.'' He kissed her head once again in a comforting gesture. ''I know Sybil, it is most awful, but it must be done to keep you safe.'' He felt her arms tighten around him as if none of the horrific things they were told of was not happening over seas. They, together, only mattered.

Sybil sighed deeply, pondering whether or not to relay the question she yearned to ask, although the answer may break her heart.

''Tom.'' She cupped his face in her hands drawing him closer, ''You have not be called up to fight'' tears welled in her eyes, ''have you?''

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><p><strong>oooooh, ... <strong>

thankyou so much for reading and pleace reveiw, whatever you think of it; good or bad. I am sorry if it dragged on a little, almost 2,000 words :S. Thankyou again, the next chapter will be up shortly! :D xxx


	2. Chapter 2

Glad you all enjoyed the last chapter, here's the next one!

**I don't own Downton Abbey or any of it characters.**

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><p><em>O my Love's like a red, red rose<em>  
><em>That's newly sprung in June;<em>  
><em>O my Love's like the melody;<em>  
><em>That's sweetly played in tune.<em>

_As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,_  
><em>So deep in love am I;<em>  
><em>And I will love thee still, my dear,<em>  
><em>Till the seas gone dry.<em>

_- Robert Burns  
><em>

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><p>His body tensed, his tongue tied in his mouth. Sybil drew back from her position untangling her arms which lay around him. ''Tom, please do not tell me you have enlisted?'' Tears welled in her dark eyes, the hurt radiated of her pale face. Branson shook his head.<p>

''No, I did not enlist..''

Sybil drew a harsh breath knowing that this was not the end. Her heart beat so menacingly in her chest, it seemed to penetrate the small area they were in. Tom stared at her in sorrow, he had to tell her now. Better to be truthful and see her hurt than reign her with false hope; he took a deep breathe.

''However, I have been called up to fight.'' Brandishing the telegram from his trouser pocket, she took them from his grasp.

Reading them through thoroughly not accepting the fact of his departure. ''I'm sorry'' was all he could relay as she sobbed into her hands.

It was devastating watching his love hurt so much and knowing he was the cause. Bransons heart broke at the sight of her pain. ''Come here'' he whispered drawing her into his strong arms. Sybil could not fathom it. Her lover going to the battle fields, to fight the enemy. She could hear his brave heart beating behind the thin shirt he wore, tears swan down her white-pale cheeks devouring it with moisture.

The two stayed like this for another few moments until Sybil calmed herself through Tom's comforting words. He kept her cradled in his arms never wanting to let go but knowing he must. ''When do you leave?'' Sybil asked not at all wanting to hear the answer. Nestling her head into his shoulder. ''I leave for active duty on Monday'' A gasp radiated the room. ''So early..'' reinstating the fact that they only had 2 days left until his departure. ''I know.'' Branson's eyed rimmed with fresh tears, he let them freely fall, holding Sybil tighter as she sobbed once again.

''I love you'' she told him again a small smile pertruded upon his face, he kissed her forhead. ''I love you too, and no matter what comes our way that feeling will never change.'' The two lovers fell asleep in eachothers arms never wanting the night to end.

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><p>The sun rose behind Downton Abbey, there was not a cloud in the sky. However fine the weather this day was far from glorious; August 13th 1914 was the much feared day that 3 downstairs servants left Downton to fight in the grevous war. Thomas, William and Branson stood in a line outside the grand house, looking upon their employers. William stood strong fighting tears as Daisy cryed silently into a dirty cloth. Thomas had no glint of tears in his eyes yet his face was striken with pure fear.<p>

Branson stood a little beside his fellow soliders, his face looked torn and fragile as if one look at Sybil, whom stood next to her mama and faced him, would cause him to shatter into a million pieces. The two had said goodbye earlier in the day, she had come to the garage caught him packing and ran into his arms holding tightly, never letting go. At the thought a tear cracked his facade, it ran slowly down his brissled cheek. Sybil's eyes were red rimmed from crying - though she passed it of as a bad nights sleep - and her body fit to burst with grief. Oh, how he longed to hold her, tell her he'd be okay, make promises they both knew could never be kept.

The cars - which were transporting the 3 to the boats which would then take them and hundreds of other young men over seas and into the destructive and deadly battlefields - pulled up onto the gravel making Daisy the wretched housemaid let out a heaving sob. Anna whom stood next to her and Mr Bates comforted the young girl. Sybil's eyes overflowed with tears which ran swiftly down her pained face. _This is it _she thought _my __Tom, gone. _The reminder brought fresh tears soaring down her face. The three men were now working their way down the line of servants and employers, kindly shaking each of their hands.

Branson shook hands with his fellow employee's, Mr Bates brandished him a kind and 'goodluck young lad' smile. Anna smiled weakly. Daisy was to incoherent so he smiled gracefully at the poor kitchen maid. After shaking the firm hand of Lord Grantham and sweet one of her Ladyship Branson reached Sybil.

''Goodbye M'lady''

He spoke almost silently. He took her hand and squeezed it. Sybil replied as best she could ''Goodbye ... Branson'' She heart broke as she said the words. He nodded and carried on down the line. Sybil felt a small piece of paper in her hand and swiftly swung the hand behind her back, swiftly shaking hands with the other two fellows.

Back inside the warmth and serenity of Downton Sybil quickly made her excuses and left to her chamber. She closed the door firmly behind her and looked at the folded paper. _Dearest Sybil_ It read, she unfolded the paper and two words were present written in a quick and unneat hand _Write me. _Sybil slightly smiled at the thought of contacting him and knowing it may takes weeks for it to arrive in france she penned a letter to him.

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><p>Branson had hated mud. But now he simply detested the stuff. It was present like air in the trenches, nobody could walk 3 feet without delving into a slosh pile of black and brown squelch. He had been on the frontline for 10 days, seen men killed and blown up before him. Unimaginable horrors he had witnessed. His regiment has been the first to arrive in France. None of the other Downton employers joined him, he found it to be a good thing. You didn't make friends on the frontline, it was to much a risk. The mail came slowly, reaching them only every 3 weeks at a time, no responce had come from Sybil. <em>Yet <em>he told himself.

It was a dull day, the clouds lay above dark and penerating. The BEF soliders had began there retreat from Mons and the Germans were well on their way. During the night mustard gas and artilliry fire could be heard and smelt from miles around, no man slept. Branson knew mail was due today, his heart stopped when the man brandished a letter for Corporal Branson. He sludged through the swamp-like trench and took the letter greatfully. His boots so soddem and drenched his feet blistered and slashed, Branson had to sit down, he found a round stone not far from were he stood and sat upon it opening the letter from his lover.

_13th August 1914 _

_Downton Abbey _

_Downton Village  
><em>

_North Yorkshire  
><em>

_ Dearest Tom, _

_I pray with all my heart that you recieve this letter. I hope that it shall bring you great comfort in this time of hardship, knowing that I love you so very much. I already miss you dearest Tom though the car taking you to the western front has only just departed my home. I know from now on until your return I shan't be myself. However hard I may try I know you will be in my thoughts every single day. Your suffering shall pain me ever so much. _

_I feel so much regret towards the fact that I have denied my love for you for so long, how selfish I was! I am terribly sorry to have kept you waiting, you were hurting and that was my fault. I am sorry. _

_I am sorry this is such a short letter but please pen a reply it shall keep me sane. _

_All my love, and heart _

_Your Sybil _

Branson sighed a heavy sigh and placed the letter into his breast pocket, she was so optimistic, so open. _Until your return _she had wrote. He would fight for her, he would stay safe for her. Nothing else mattered.

All is fair in love and war.

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><p><strong>Thankyou so much for reading this, and im sorry it's such a short letter, his reply will be better. <strong>

**It would make my day if you could review, hehehe, and also it would encourage me to write more. My head is filled with ideas. **

xxxxx


	3. Chapter 3

Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy! I have skipped a little forward here as to not let the story drag. This is set in October 1914.

**Please review, it'll make me happy!  
><strong>

and I own Nothing, not a thing.

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><p><em> Had he and I but met <em>  
><em> By some old ancient inn, <em>  
><em>We should have set us down to wet <em>  
><em>Right many a nipperkin! <em>

_But ranged as infantry, _  
><em>And staring face to face, <em>  
><em>I shot at him as he at me, <em>  
><em>And killed him in his place.<em>

- _Thomas Hardy_

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><p>Jogging quickly across the dashed pebbles which littered the streets of London Sybil's breath came in long harsh gasps, she had just retreated early from a ball held by her Aunt, in her favour of course as it was the season. But Sybil did not care about the 'dashing' young fellows who fleeted by wishing to catch her eye. It was useless becasue she knew the man she truly loved was fighting across the sea.<p>

Gwen had dragged her into the kitchen relaying news of the postal delivery - Sybil had asked the young maid to ask Joseph the postboy were her mail would be sent as she was living in London - it had turned out that it was taken to the local post office not a few yards from her Aunt's house. Therefore making her excuses she had run to the post office hoping to recieve the much anticipated letter from Branson.

''Hello,'' Sybil breathed as she staggered into the little shop. ''I am Sybil Crawley have you recieved any telegrams for me?'' She did not care if it was rude to ask so sternly. The little lady behind the counter gave her a brief smile ''I'll check for ya''' She toddled into the back and returned within a moment. ''We have recieved just one Ms. Crawley'' She handed it to Sybil, ''Will that be all?'' ''Yes.'' She grinned her face bright and beaming. ''Thankyou.''

She could not return to the party after making such a swift departure so finding a deserted bench under a low hanging tree Sybil sat down and opened the crumpled letter:

_October 4th 1914 _

_My Darling Sybil, _

_I write this in the trenches surrounded by men like me, In love, alone and young. Our letters are all censored from now on so it is pointless telling you where in the world I am. We went into the town yesterday which was a great experience, we were causing havoc and many men got into fights, it was a good night however all in all. Food is scarse and water is brown, but we get by on rice, we have no beds and shelter is for the captains. Some of my regiment say that the Germans are ready to invade the town we visited but I see it to be unlikely, they are already here what is the point? _

_As for the danger, well, I am a solider now, I recongnise no dangers. I shall be careful of course; not to be to brave and get myself killed. Mustard gas is by far the most feared weapon in these parts, I have seen what it does to men, blows faces apart and blinds them forever. I cannot go into detail of other things I have bare witness to, it would scare you to your death and we wouldn't want that would we. After all surviving is a matter of luck, were shrapnel falls of were the guns fire, so far we have lost 160 men is our regiment alone and most of them were shot for cowardice, awful thing to see, a poor lad crouched in the corner screaming and fitting into the murky slushy mud, the captain announces that if he does not sort himself out and face the guns like the brave men surrounding him, he shall be sent to the guards whom will shoot him in his place for disgracing his King and Country. _

_I am sorry to be rambling on about what is happening over here as I am sure you hear enough about it in the newspapers. How is everyone at Downton? You know, when I think about my life there it feels like a wonderful dream, or a brother whom had lived that life and is relaying it to me almost everyday. I cannot believe where we have come dear Sybil and my distance from you only makes me love you so much more. It makes me realise that we are strong enough to break down the barriers that make our love so wrong. I have never longed to see anyone as I much as I long to see you, your beautiful face, to touch your porcelain skin and to kiss your sweet lips. _

_Many men speak of there sweethearts whom await them back home, who write such heart felt letters expressing there dearest thoughts and feelings. However knowing this the men - when drunk of course - go into the whore houses and betray the women they spoke so fondly of. I find it such a waste. I asked a fellow comrade why the men betray their wives, Corporal Frankland he is called; he replied ''There's a war on chap, most of us won't be here when its over, might aswell make the most of the time we have left.'' I so hope he is wrong and that the war ends at christmas like the papers always say. _

_Sorry for the long letter, I'm sure you've probably stopped reading by now. _

_But know that I love you with all of my heart and that your love keeps me fighting everyday. _

_Yours forever and always, _

_Tom_

Sybil let the tears fall down her to-pale cheeks and hit the browning paper just missing his sprall. Why had this to happen, why were young men dying and fighting for a lost cause? She only wished that the gastly war would end by christmas althought deep down she new it wasn't going to. Sybil surveyed the street before her, the sky was now dimming causing a morbid scene of people and bussling shops. Life had changed so much in these last few months. She had delved full speed into her nursing duties, trying to stop her mind from wandering back to the heart break she felt for her solider in the trenches.

She had arrived in London a little over 2 weeks ago, Dr Clarkson had insisted that she apply for a nursing job in the London Hospital which held mostly severely injured or dying soliders whom had come straight from the frontline, in her short time there Sybil had witnessed unimaginable horrors, some injuries were so catastrophic younger nurses were forced to vacate the room due to the bloody state or pungent smell. Sybil had looked passed the ill-fated men and strived to help them as best she could. Of course many had perished in her care but the main 'sister' had told her that this is bound to happen and to not fret over it.

Having sat down for far to long that the moon began to appear in the sky, Sybil vacated the bench and began her walk home. She thought of Tom so far away terrified, of Cousin Matthew and Mary, how they were fighting the same battle and loosing all the same. Tom's voice made its way into her head stating the words he had spoke -what seemed like- a million years ago.

_''War is an awful thing but it must be done to keep you safe.'' _

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><p>Indeed the Great War - a phrase coined before it had even begun - was far from over.<p>

Death was a constant companion to those on the frontline, Branson had witnessed as many as 50 deaths right in front of him, men, strong soliders dropping like flies due to the horrendous and poisonous conditions they lived in. The consent shell fire persisted through the night making sleep impossible, the enemy never stopped they shot a the pitifullest murmur of light, a candle or lighter would cause havoc. Talking was swept to a minimum as darkness fell, most men read or wrote letters at night.

''Corporal Branson'' spoke a comrade nearing to were the ex-chauffeur sat re-reading his letter from Sybil which had arrived only days ago.

''Hello, Private Murphy'' They had met on the boat crossing from England to France, he had been drawn by the man's strong Irish accent, the men spoke of Justice for Ireland and politics; this kept Tom as ease during the long journey. Although he hated to admit it he had grown fond of the young chap, a brother in arms.

''How ar' yah?'' Asked the Private resting again the dirty wall of the long and festurous trench. ''Bareing up'' Was all Tom could muster, he clung to Sybil's most recent letter as if it were his lifeline. ''Yeah, me too, saw Crompton go down yesterday some bloody hun shot 'im in the back just as we were retreating back here.'' The young lad shook his head in disgrace and looked up at the sky. ''Out here I wish to be spared o'course but if that isn't to be, then I wish to be killed cleanly, with a bull-'' _SWEEEEE_ To fast for either of the soliders to notice a bullet raging from the enemy lines shot directly into the preaching man's head causing his limp body to fall gracefully into the mud pit below; his lingering phrase dancing in the wind.

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><p><strong>Next one shall be up soon, not sure as to whether skip a few more months? Please tell me what you think, improvements maybe? Should I carry on? I tell you they are so fun to write! Thanks for reading! Reveiw! hehehee. <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

I couldn't wait to get another instalment out so here is Chapter Four. I'm sorry they've all been so sad lately but I am going to improve on that in the coming chapters, hehehe.

I have big ideas for this story so **please inform me if it drags or is getting a little to boring**! I am again skipping a few months so it is set around November 1914, please **say if you don't like me skipping big parts** its just to keep the story flowing.

**I own nothing**.

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><p>O life with the sad seared face,<br>I weary of seeing thee,  
>And thy draggled cloak, and thy hobbling pace,<br>And thy too-forced pleasantry!

I know what thou would'st tell  
>Of Death, Time, Destiny -<br>I have known it long, and know, too, well  
>What it all means for me.<p>

But canst thou not array  
>Thyself in rare disguise,<br>And feign like truth, for one mad day,  
>That Earth is Paradise?<p>

- _Thomas Hardy_

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><p>At first Sybil had found London, the big city and bussling life, fascinating however after a month of the same scenery it grew very monotonous.<p>

''Sybil darling, are you awake?'' Aunt Roasamund yelled from her downstairs library.

''Yes Aunt Rosamund, I shall be down in a moment'' Sybil have excelled brilliantly in her nursing and she enjoyed her work more and more everyday. During her time in London however independant she may feel she was still dressed and had her hair made up by a Housemaid much to her annoyance. So as the young women tided Sybil's hair she thanked her and retreated downstairs to greet her Aunt.

''Oh, Morning Sybil dear'' Aunt Rosamund greeted her niece pleasantly calmly sipping a cup of tea.

''Good Morning Aunt, is there any post?'' Her much anticipated letters from Branson had become dormant over the past few weeks. Her heart swelled with longing.

''I'm afraid not Sybil, why so interested?'' Rosamund raised her eyebrows in suspicion ''Have you a beau I do not know of?''At first she did not hear Rosamund speak, _still nothing_ she thought, _where was he?_. A mental image appeared in Sybil's mind of Tom, Her brave and courageous Tom, lying face down punctured and broken in the treacherous no-mans-land he hand spoke of so darkly.

Sybil mustered a smile at her Aunt, oh if only she knew. ''No, nothing like that, I am simply wondering'' Sybil swiftly sat down and devoured her breakfast, bid goodbye to her Aunt and left for the Hospital.

She stepped out onto the same cobbled stones, a flash memory of the count in Ripon crawled into her brain making her sigh heavily and briskly walk down the same road she did everyother day. The hospital was not far from her Aunts so she walked the short way there everyday at 7.00am sharp.

Today was the day she had forever dreaded, Sybil and some colleages were to be promoted to Sister of the Ward which held the Mentally ill patients, this simply mean't the Soliders whom had been overcome with depression, Hallucinations, and worst of all Shell-Shock due to their time on the battlesfields, the senior nurses had explained to them that it was an awful illness to witness as many men would thrash and scream in their beds. They were forbidden to mention the war or anything to do with the events occuring around europe; at that time around such people as it may trigger a distressing memory. Sybil reached the hospital and was greeted by fellow Doctors and Nurses whom she had become aquainted with.

''Nurse Crawley'' She whipped around to behold the person whom had spoken her name. It was Elizabeth, Lizzy to her friends, the two were both from Yorkshire and came from well-of backgrounds. Also Lizzie, like Sybil had a loved one on the frontline.

''Any news from Tom?''The young women asked bareing a slight smile. Sybil had spilled her heart out to the girl about Branson and she, their forbidden love, and exhuberation topics of conversation.

''Not yet I'm afraid'' Was all she could reply before Lizzie was ushered away by a senior nurse to check upon the wounded whom were arriving in truck loads from the front.

Sybil entered the grand hospital and quickly found her way towards the ward she needed to attend, she went to the Senior Nurses desk and appointed to the women that she had been transferred into Ward M11 the elder lady pointed in the right direction and Sybil followed her path until she reached the bright and spacious ward.

''Nurse Crawley at last, thankyou ever so much for helping us here, we have just recieved 14 news patients from the trenches in Ypres, the men are extremely shaken and isolated.'' The young women ushered a dumbfounded Sybil around the vast ward. The mass of men laying in the proximity took her breath away, poor poor fellows she thought noticing men ... boys no older than 17 crying and praying for mercy.

''Is their a patient list mam?'' Sybil found it would be much easier if she were to know the names of those in her care, ''Cetainly'' She brandished a long scripted list of the names, beds and medication of her patients. ''Thankyou'' Sybil replied as she delve into her work catering for everyman whom she could draw eyes on, hoping to brighten their turbulent minds.

''Nurse'' The voice came from behind, a tallish man with sweeping ash-coloured hair, he had slits for eyes around them his skin was battered and bruised causing his eye lids and bags to become puffy and swolen, his voice was croaky and broken. Sybil pitied the poor man, taking the seat next his bed she spoke in a soft calm voice. ''Yes, sir?'' She smiled her brightest smile.

The man laying down seemed mentally capable, though his face was punctured and beaten he seemed of sound mind through his manurisms and spoke with a calm, albeit quiet and crackling, voice.

''Please may,'' he paused for a breath, his nose was beated and bloodied, breathing seemed a task ''may I have some water?''

Sybil steadily took the glass cup of water, carefully lifting the patients head up to allow him to sip the cool water, some trickled down his mouth and the moisture hit the sheets. ''Sorry'' he breathed as she lay his head back on the pillow. Sybil smiled again at the man, ''it's quite alright ... - ''

Sybil had forgotten she held the patients names in her hand, looking for his cot number she found it above the soliders head,19 it read, she scrolled with her finger down the pages and reaching number 19 her heart stopped as all the blood drained from her face.

_Cot 19 - Wounded, severe shell-shock and insomnia - Corporal Branson, Tom._

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><p><strong>ooooooh, is it him? or not?<strong> Well you'll have to eait for the next one which shall be up either tomorrow or later today (as its 00:19am in england) hehhee.

**Your reviewing would make it arrive much faster though, please tell me if I am going to quick with the story? **

**Please feel free to message me, or review if you have any idea's for another chapter ot whole other story. Please I'd love to here your opinions.**

thankyoou sooo much for reading and I will surely post more soon!

:D


	5. Chapter 5

yaay more Reviews! Thankyou so much! Here's the story... :D

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><p><em>You may write me down in history<em>  
><em>With your bitter, twisted lies,<em>  
><em>You may trod me in the very dirt<em>  
><em>But still, like dust, I'll rise.<em>

_Did you want to see me broken?_  
><em>Bowed head and lowered eyes?<em>  
><em>Shoulders falling down like teardrops.<em>  
><em>Weakened by my soulful cries.<em>

_You may shoot me with your words,  
>You may cut me with your eyes,<br>You may kill me with your hatefulness,  
>But still, like air, I'll rise.<em>

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><p><em><em>''Nurse Crawley'' a stranger called. ''Are you quite alright?'' It spoke again, it was only when the women tapped her on her shoulder did she break the trance that had taken over. Sybil looked into the nurse's face ''I'm fine, just a little tired is all.'' The women nodded and carried on with her duties.

She could not let herself believe the fact that it was Tom lying crippled in the bed before her. Her mind was running riot thinking of every possibility this could not be her Tom, _Surely there was more than one Tom Branson in the trenches. _She pondered the thought bringing both sorrow and relief into her already befundled feelings.

Sybil's heart beat rapidly in her chest threatening to burst as the man in cot 19 carefully and with presition turned his bludgeoned head towards her, his eyes swollen and puffy rested on Sybil, she wanted so much as to see them, if it was her Tom the eyes would be a beautiful pristine blue, they would be swimming with hope, ambition and fearless pride.

She sat still for a moment surveying his every feature, surely something was to give him away, his hair was similar of course, if not a little darker, his ears were red raw, and his face had its obvious malfunctions; having exhausted every prospect of finding a physical feature which related to her love she spoke to him again hoping so much to see whether an Irish brouge could be heard under the robust and cracking voice.

''Will that be all sir?'' Were the only words she could bring herself to say.

With great difficulty the man replied ''Yes, thankyou..'' he paused adruptly and she saw his eyes squint with frustration as he surveyed Sybil still sitting on the chair before him. ''thankyou, nurse.'' With that the man withdrew his gaze and continued to stare at the pale ceiling.

Throughout the rest of the day Sybil cared and nurtured the other men but never once did she stop thinking of unknown Tom Branson whom lay in bed 19.

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><p>He had seen and experienced it all, death, life, friendship and loss.<p>

''Why?'' he whispered to himself ''why had it been him not me, he whom had taken the bullet for king and country and not I.'' He often pondered upon that fateful day, when the sky was clear and the sun beamed down upon their heads. He never forgot the moments when his friend fell to his death, the thud that rippled the mud.

If he could survey were he was, by god he would, but his eyes stayed closed and painful. Branson desperatly tryed to listen to his surroundings, picking out an accent what gave away his wereabouts, all that radiated through his blistered ears were murmurs, most like a humming. He had only been able to understand what people said to him whom were close by, and for the last few hours only one person had spoke to him.

A nurse had heard his plea for water, and obliged to his request, her voice, or murmur, sounded tranquel and calming to begin with but her last question had been spoken in a hushed and adgitated tone. Had he annoyed her with his invalidity? Oh how her kindess had so very much reminded him of his darling Sybil whom he had not written two in over 2 months, how he longed to see her, to tell his he was alright, home, safe at last. A murmur reached his burning ears, Branson could almost clearly hear what the person was relaying.

''Goodnight young man,'' he felt a presence to his left.

''If you have any trouble during the night please don't hesistate to call one of our night nurses whom will be on duty throughout, goodnight now'' Her voice, murmur, was unlike the one he had heard earlier it sounded brouge but clear, she was an older lady he could tell, but kind hearted all the same.

Branson finally felt at peace to be safe again, yet knowing his love was somewhere in the world unknowing that he was out of the firing line. A feeling a guilt swept over him and quickly burned a hole in his heart, if only he could see her, he thought again. If only she were here, if he could atleast tell her he was okay, atleast physically. Although, if her parents had any sense they would have tranported his dear Sybil to London by now, inviting handsome young, and maybe the odd old, bachelor to an aray of balls and courtings, they would fling themselves at her no doubt, she was beautiful of course, whoever thought different was either foolish or blind.

Somebody switched of the lights and darkness engulfed the peninsular and with darkness came dreams, nightmares, flashbacks. As the other men struggled around him he thought morbidly to himself. _I won't be the only one weeping tonight._

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><p><span>3 weeks later<span>

It had been 3 weeks since Sybil had spoke to the man in cot 19, ever since then she had been told he was seriously ill with Shell-Shock, so serious many other patients were extremely disturbed by his constant night terrors, this was a serious matter in the eyes of some senior nurses whom feared for the young man and patiens wellbeing, due to this he had been moved into a smaller ward which had only 3 beds, he was the only patient.

She had tryed so much to see the man, see if it was her Tom who lay there, but her trying was pointless beyond words as she had been denied any access into his room, the nurses stated ''He's in a very unstable state, I am sorry Nurse Crawley'' She could not tell the other nurses whom she hoped this man would be as a relationship between patient and staff was highly prohibited and he would be forced to be cared for elsewhere.

Sybil entered the desolate Mental Patient ward which in recent weeks had become rather deserted only now housing 19 patients, many of the original men had overcome their illness and had been sent back onto the frontline, she prayed for them all each night.

She was just about to pour water into a beaker for the man in bed 10 when the Senior Sister approached.

''Nurse Crawley'' she spoke in her deep, brash voice. ''Nurse Slater has been taken ill and her patient is in need of urgent medical attention and reassurance, would it disrupt your duties if I were to ask of you to care for her patients today?'' Sybil almost burst with anticipation, she knew whom Nurse Slaters 'patients' were, and the thought brought hope into her heart.

She repiled a little to adruptly beaming in delight ''That would be no problem sister, I will make my way over there now'' Sybil dropped the beaker onto the side and swiftly made her way to Ward 3. Skipping slightly she reached the heavy door and pushed it open.

Three beds lay in a single line across the furthest wall, 2 lay unoccupied for the moment, however, the 3rd was wrapped in a curtain, which covered the whole proximity, dismissing anything or anyone, with out further ado Sybill took a deep breath and proceeded to her patient.

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><p>Although his hearing was no longer impaired Bransons eyes were still extremely sore so sleeping was the best thing to do, he did it most days, never nights. Suddenly he had heard somebody enter the room, he rolled onto his side and shutting his throbing eyes quickly wishing not to be disturbed.<p>

After mintues of silence her heard slight foot steps reach the curtain that serparated his from the world, the person moved it aside and approached his once more. A gasp came from the foot of his bed causing him to turn to face the persuer, wanting to shout at them for disturbing his solitude. He stopped his tounge as the women drew closer, his vision still blurred the only thing that Branson wcould make out was a plain, white/grey nurses uniform and thick, dark raven hair. Branson attempted to make out her face, she was not Nurse Sllater, that was certain.

Then the intruder spoke and his heart skipped a beat.

''Tom?'' She cried, he could hear the tears in her voice, through happiness or sadness he did not know. All her knew was that she had found him, he had found her. Sybil, his darling beautiful, loving Sybil was here. He did not believe it to be true, surely it was just a wonderful dream.

''Sybil?'' He quizzed tears rippling in his swollen eyes, ''It cannot be you?'' he felt the warm tears freely roll down his bruised cheeks, if he could only see her. ''It is!'' She whispered, ''I am here with you'' He felt her fingers intertwine with his own, his pulse quickened at the contact. He could hear her softly weeping to his right and reached to comfort her; his actions were denied as a sharp pain rose into his head causing him to flop back onto the pillow crying in pain.

''Tom!'' Sybil cried, her hands reaching out to him, wanting to stop the pain. She found a wet cloth and placed in on his head, his breathing was raspy and his eyes still looked extremely sore. ''Are you alright? The mentally scolded herself, _Stupid question Sybil of course he is not alright. _

''I'm okay, now'' Sybil saw a slight smile arise from his pained lips and she had to smile. How long had it been since the two had been together, almost 3 years, it had only make her love him even more. ''I love you dearest Sybil'' Tom spoke, his hand finding hers once again, he squeezed it and smiled, reunited at last. ''I love you two, my Tom, forever and always.'' She kissed his hand.

Branson's heart soared as he heard her speak those words, after so long he had begun to deny her love for him, maybe it had been a fling, a simple once in a lifetime romance. Her words had banished those thoughts and he loved her even more, if that were mearly possible. ''I can't see'' Branson admitted wanting so much to see his loves face.

''I know Tom, and I am sorry about that, but I am sure it'll return within a couple of weeks, it wont be perminant I promise.'' Her reassuring words filled him with gleeful hope.

Sybil stirred awkwardly in her chair still grasping hold of Tom's hand, she wished to ask what happened but pondered whether he would want to speak of the horrors of war.

''What happened?'' She felt him wince at the question, surely it brought back painful memories. ''I...I...he'' Branson struggled for words, he had hoped to never relay the story. ''Perhaps you should tell me when your better'' She smiled at the idea, the two back together again, properly. However, Branson again tensed at her words and spoke in a weak voice.

''I shall never get better'' His words cut throught her like knives. ''Of course you shall, you're in the best of care'' She laughed easing the mood. ''No, love, I physically will get better but..'' He withdrew his hand from hers. ''The images and memories of war will haunt me for the rest of my days, not one night do I go to sleep and not dare close my eyes for one moment in fear of returning to the front and witnessing such horrors all over again.'' He looked away from her pityful gaze.

Reaching for him she replied. ''I know what you are say-'' He raised a hand to silence her. ''Please, do not try and say you know what I mean becasue, and I am so glad, that you don't and never will.'' She stared at her Tom, how war had changed him, once so vibrant and outspoken, now he sat scarred and broken, the tears began to fall again.

''We will work through it, I will help you, you'll see, I love you'' She reached out again to take his hand but he flinched at her touch. ''Sybil'' He spoke her name as if a god or sacred being, so careful and precise. ''you are so beautiful and young, I love you so much I cannot bare it.'' She stared longingly into his tortured swollen eyes and witnessed his pain. ''However, this is the reason I must let you go. I am not good for you anymore, I am a hopeless case, you deserve so much better.'' Fresh tears streamed down her face as she looked into the eyes of the man she so dearly loved.

''I am sorry to cause you so much heart break but it will easy, as if I never existed, you'll see, I will leave this hospital and go back home, you will find a handsome, rich man, whose family appears appropriatly in Burkes Peerage; you and your family shall be much happier with me out of the picture.'' As Tom spoke the words his heart shattered with loss, how he wanted so much to believe her, that they would 'work through' his grief, but he knew that would never happen, he now realised they had no life together.

Sybil could not bare to hear him speak like this, her heart tore in two as he spoke each wretched sentence.

''No!'' She cried her cheeks burning, she sniffed from crying as new tears formed in her dark eyes. ''I will never let you go, we have been through to much together, I don't care how hard it is, we will fight your pain and we will fight it together.'' She took his reluctant hand in hers and whispered. ''Tom Branson I cannot say enough that I love you with all my heart and I am willing to break down any walls which stand between us and it will be hard I understand but together we shall power through anything, you may be wounded but that does not change the way I feel for you.'' She sighed and looked deeply into his weary eyes. ''We are one, never to be apart.''

Tom didn't have it in his to argue, he simply smiled at his love and silently kissed her cheek not wanting her to catch any of the cold-sores which littered his mouth. With that all humor and 'normality' returned to the room.

''I'll take that as a 'I give in' gesture.'' Sybil spoke with a smile. Tom smiled back brandishing yellowish teeth from under paling lips.

''I'm a man Sybil, I never give in.''

The two lovers reunited at last laughed together. Sybil did not return home until the next morning having spent the night in the arms of herBrave solider, Tom.

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><p>That was so fun to write! Don't worry is does not stop there, I will, however, skip a few months on the next one just to keep it flowin' hehhee.<p>

Thankyou so much for reading and remember to **Review! ** - They make my day :D xxxx


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